


Times Two

by fadedink



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: F/M, Het and Slash, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-20
Updated: 2008-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/pseuds/fadedink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A relationship, from one beginning to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Times Two

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://moosesal.livejournal.com/profile)[**moosesal**](http://moosesal.livejournal.com/)'s [Non-J2 CW Real Person Ficathon](http://moosesal.livejournal.com/390546.html). Much thanks to [](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile)[**azewewish**](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/) and [](http://the-stowaway.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_stowaway**](http://the-stowaway.livejournal.com/) for the betas.

_**FIC: "Times Two" - 1/1, PG13, CK/JP, CW RPS**_  
Title: Times Two  
Pairing: Christian Kane/Jared Padalecki implied, Jared Padalecki/Sandra McCoy implied  
Rating: PG13  
Summary: A relationship, from one beginning to another.  
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…  
Notes: Written for [](http://moosesal.livejournal.com/profile)[**moosesal**](http://moosesal.livejournal.com/) 's [Non-J2 CW Real Person Ficathon](http://moosesal.livejournal.com/390546.html). Much thanks to [](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile)[**azewewish**](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/) and [](http://the-stowaway.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_stowaway**](http://the-stowaway.livejournal.com/) for the betas.

  
  
 _My therapist said not to see you no more  
She said you're like a disease without any cure  
She said I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no_  
~ "Laid" by James

  
There are times in a man's life when he's forced to re-evaluate how he looks at things. The first time Christian met Jared was one of those times.

See, Christian had already formed an idea of who Jared was, based on the show and the way Jensen had talked him up every time they were on the phone or hanging out somewhere. Nice guy from Texas, bit of a dork, but all around pretty loveable. Kinda like Jensen, actually, when Christian thought about it, only Jared (to hear Jensen tell it) was a _lot_ more of a dork. Which Christian didn't really think was possible, but whatever. He'd never met the guy.

Until he did.

He got the nice guy part the second he laid eyes on the kid. Kinda hard not to, with the way Jared's big-ass smile lit up his entire body. That smile was actually pretty damn blinding. Christian was still blinking from it when Jared's hand engulfed his (and there was really no other way to put it, seeing as how Christian was sure he'd seen bear paws smaller than Jared's hands) and all of that barely controlled energy was focused on him in an open stare. Complete with another smile.

Heat slammed into him and sizzled up his arm the second their palms connected. And all Christian could do was go on blinking and try to remember the manners his mama had beaten into him when he was a little boy.

Then Jared cracked a joke, the kind you hear on elementary school playgrounds, and laughed at his own wit. Off to the side, Christian could see Jensen rolling his eyes and mouthing an I told you so. It threw Christian off-balance. He started to say something, then caught the glint of wicked humor in Jared's eyes.

So that was how he rolled. Alright, Christian could deal. He smirked, cracked back with a joke his nephew had told him the week before and ignored Jensen covering his face with his hands.

The day had ended with the three of them getting so drunk they could hardly stand, and all Christian had were vague memories of off-key singing, rounds of poker where they all lost more than they won (and he was _still_ trying to figure that one out), and Jared's dogs. Well, that and waking up the next morning, sprawled against Jared's side, mostly clothed except for one boot that was God knew where and half his buttons undone, hair snarled and matted against his skin, head feeling like it was three times the size it should be, and a taste in his mouth that couldn't have come from anything natural.

Jared's snoring, much like a rattlesnake caught in a buzz saw, didn't do a thing for his headache.

Christian was debating hitting him with something (or smothering him, which was definitely an option the morning after) when Jared shifted, opened his eyes, blinked, and muttered something about Christian looking like shit.

Christian's response was a startled bark of laughter that made them both wince and drew threats of vile bodily harm from the floor behind the sofa. Which is where Jensen had ended up.

It was a hell of a way to start a friendship.

* * *

At some point, the weekly poker games had turned into a Jared-and-Christian versus Jensen-and-Steve deal. Which was alright, even if Christian basically sucked at the whole team poker thing. But it was Jared, and somehow they'd worked out a form of silent communication that was mostly eye rolls, head scratches, and ankle kicks.

And bad jokes. _Really_ bad jokes. The worse the joke, the better the hand. Thankfully, Steve and Jensen hadn't noticed yet.

Then, somewhere along the way, Steve had jokingly suggested they switch to strip poker. At least Christian _thought_ he was joking (but given the way Jensen and Steve sometimes looked at each other, he wasn't sure). He'd opened his mouth to decline (because, really, he wasn't drunk enough to be looking at their hairy asses) when Jared had plowed right in with all the enthusiasm of a St. Bernard puppy and said they'd be happy to take the challenge and would whip the pants off Steve and Jensen.

Which was how Christian and Jared ended up sitting there in their boxers while Steve and Jensen had just lost their shirts.

Card sharks, the both of 'em.

Christian was trying to figure out the best way to repay Jared for the whole thing (mainly by means involving drowning or suffocation), when Jared offered to grab more beers. And stood up. Which put his stomach right on eye level with Christian.

Clearly, the boy had been working out in his spare time.

Strangled sounds from Jensen and muffled snickering from Steve, and Christian ignored them both, gaze snapping back to the cards in his hand. It wasn't like he'd been staring at Jared's stomach. Or the light trail of dark hairs that trailed down into his boxers. Or the way the light _almost_ made the thin cloth see-through. It was just, well...

Well, it was just _Jared_ and he was so damn tall and gangly and, well, _goofy_ , that Christian hadn't expected him to look like that out of his clothes. Not that he'd been looking. And he definitely didn't look when Jared returned with the beers and stretched before sitting down, causing the waistband of his boxers to drop dangerously low.

Christian played the rest of the game in a fog and woke up the next morning with odd bruises on his arms. No one made a big deal of it, so he didn't ask. He wanted to, sort of, but then Jared's arm draped over his shoulders, something was said about the beach, and a day spent soaking up the sun and getting over the hangover sounded damn good.

And he wasn't going to think about how comfortable Jared's arm felt, or how right it seemed to have Jared's weight pressed against his side.

* * *

The first time Jared hadn't joined them for what Steve had started calling The Redneck Drunken Debauchery was a shock. Christian had got so used to Jared's presence when Jensen was around that the first words out of his mouth hadn't been hi, Jensen, but where the hell is Jay. Jensen just snorted and shook his head.

Something about a girl.

Well, wasn't it _always_ something about a girl?

This one, though, according to Jensen, was Getting Serious. As in Jared was head over heels and following her around like a puppy that wanted to hump her leg a few times. That mental image, uttered after quite a few rounds of beer and whiskey, had sent Christian off into gales of laughter and earned him a sour look from Jensen. He couldn't help it, though.

There had been more drinking after that. Quite a bit more, but Christian wasn't counting and neither was Jensen, and somehow it had ended up last call and they had no ride home. So, being the responsible adults that they agreed they were (albeit with much snickering and guffawing) they called Steve. Who was in bed -- _not_ alone -- and promptly told them to fuck off just before hanging up on them.

Women. Again.

They argued as they scrolled through the numbers in Christian's phone (all of whom were out of town, except David, who would skin Christian alive if he called him this late...not to mention what David's _wife_ would do) and then through Jensen's.

They argued some more and then finally called Jared. Who was, naturally, with _the_ girl. But he came and got them anyway, looking all grumpy-faced behind the wheel when they tumbled into the backseat.

The next morning, Christian thought he might have confessed his love to Jared. He wasn't sure, Jensen couldn't remember, and Jared wasn't answering his phone.

It was over a year before Jared came out for the night, and it just didn't feel the same.

* * *

Then, finally, there was the barbecue. And Christian would deny responsibility for _that_ until he died. That was all Jensen's thing, even if Christian had said he'd help with the food. And the beer. And the music.

But he had emphatically _not_ asked Jensen to be sure Jared came. Didn't matter what Steve and Jensen both said, he hadn't asked that. Not even drunk.

Well, alright, maybe _drunk_ , but it would've had to have been real drunk, seeing as how Jared had pretty much completely abandoned them once he'd proposed to Sandy. Which Christian personally thought was a mistake, but that was neither here nor there because it wasn't his life.

Either way, the only thing he cared about was getting the sauce on the ribs. And getting another beer. And finding out if Jared _was_ coming (Jensen had said yes in a rather huffy tone an hour ago, but here it was two hours after the whole thing had started and Jared still hadn't showed) and if he was bringing Sandy. Christian was kinda hoping she had prior commitments.

And then Jared was there, with a gruff hey, what's up, and a smile that didn't even come close to reaching his eyes...and there was a Sandy-shaped hole at his side. The whole thing made Christian want to ask, but the group shifted and Jared flowed here and there, away from the grill, and the moment was gone. One more lost opportunity, and Christian shoved it to the back of his mind.

Until a few hours later, when it was just him and Jared, Jensen, and Steve, but Steve had fucked off with a guitar to the edge of the pool and no one was really paying attention to him. With just enough beer in him to no longer give a damn, Christian had the bright idea to ask why Sandy wasn't there.

The look he received said volumes, but then Jared tightened up around his eyes and mouth, looked away, and mumbled something about a split.

Four years and an engagement ring, and it all boiled down to a _split_.

Like a dog with a bone, Christian kept on with the questions until Jared walked. Just up and pushed out of the chair and walked. Jensen, sprawled on the grass with his legs stretched out in front of him, gave Christian an unreadable look and said to let it go.

For once, Christian listened. Sort of. His mouth let it go, but his head didn't.

Which was how he ended up at the front door of Jared's apartment at midnight, bottle of whiskey in hand and an apology on his lips. The door opened, and Christian had to fight to keep his smile when he got a good look at Jared's face. He lifted the bottle, said I'm sorry, and felt something inside him break a little when Jared just looked at him for a long moment.

This was where they'd been headed, right back at the very beginning, and Christian thought he might have known all along. Known and just refused to see. Jared's friendship, Jared's presence in his life... he'd taken it all for granted, and Christian had never once questioned why they were so comfortable together, why it never bothered him when Jared forgot all about personal space, why it had bothered him so much when Jared had ditched him for Sandy.

Ditched _him_. Not him and Jensen. And Christian felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on his head.

He glanced down at the bottle in his hand, muttered something as he rubbed the back of his neck, and tried again. This time with a simple I've missed you.

Finally, with a nod and a sigh, Jared stepped back and opened the door. It was all the invitation Christian needed.


End file.
